


when winter ends, where hands meet

by selcouthinspired



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28849128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selcouthinspired/pseuds/selcouthinspired
Summary: Katara’s grief is only a little over a month old when she enters into a friendship with the homeschooled heiress she tutors, makes a rival of Ba Sing Se High’s fencing team captain, saves the life of a twelve year old boy fallen through the surface of an icy lake, and loses a bet to an upperclassman who saves her own.Not necessarily in that order, of course.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read the tags and the rating before continuing. warning that this first chapter deals with suicidal ideation

Katara laid across her back at the bottom of Ba Sing Se High’s school pool, lungs straining, watching the surface of the water warp the dim lights above her. She told herself she was trying to beat her own personal record for how long she could hold her breath underwater — one minute and seven seconds — but if she were being honest with herself, a habit she hadn’t been maintaining, as of late, the real reason she was sunk like an anchor at the pool floor was far more sinister.

... 54... 55... 56...

Four weeks. She’d been here for four weeks, had tried out and landed a spot on the swim team, volunteered as a tutor and even signed up for prom committee and still hadn’t made a single friend. Sure, people talked to her, but it was never about anything other than decorations for the gymnasium, how to solve an equation, where to put a semi-colon and why grammar was the way it was or if she had a spare swim cap in her locker.

... 57... 58... 59...

Sokka had friends. Sokka, who couldn’t even wash his own laundry, had made friends on their first day at their new school without joining a single sport or signing up for a single club. How he’d accomplished that without going out of his way like she had, despite the trudge of it, was beyond her.

... 60... 01... 02...

Katara’s lungs were on fire. Ironic that feeling, given she was underwater. Wasn’t water supposed to extinguish flame? Why did it burn? Why did it hurt? Why her mother, of all people? Why did it have to be her?

... 03... 04... 05...

Four weeks. Four weeks since they moved. Four weeks since she’d last seen her father, four weeks since...

... 06... 07... 08...

It was becoming too much. Katara didn’t know how much longer she would last.

... 09... 10... 11...

Her vision spotted, threatened to shudder. But the image of Gran-Gran, Sokka and even her father had Katara kicking up. She swam as hard as she could, broke the surface, gasped down the air she’d denied herself, closed her eyes and took a moment to just breathe. She floated, fighting back against the sting behind her eyes, her nose, the sort that was deep-rooted in her chest. She couldn’t shake it, couldn’t expunge it from herself. It was a part of her now. It twisted her features, and she shed a single tear.

Four weeks, and she still wasn’t able to feel any other way but painfully.

”Why are you crying?” She berated herself quietly. She swam to the lip of the pool, pulled herself up and dripped her way to the locker room to change. Miserably she continued, “You beat your own record.”

* * *

The daily routine went like this: wake up before Sokka and Gran-Gran, shower and dress, make breakfast, greet Gran-Gran when she emerged from her room, wake up Sokka, get a head start on her chores, pack her and Sokka’s lunch, wake Sokka up again, pester him to hurry up because the bus would be at their apartment building in less than ten minutes, get them both in shoes and out the door, but make sure to kiss Gran-Gran goodbye before they high-tailed it downstairs, begrudgingly loan Sokka some change because he always managed to either not have enough for the bus ride or forget about it entirely. Once at school, it was check in with the homeroom teacher, organize all the homework she would turn in for the day, attend class, study during the breaks, sit alone at lunch, ignore Sokka harder than he ignored her, if they happened to cross paths, and then after school was dedicated to tutoring, prom committee meetings if she had any, and swim practice. After that, it was straight home, finishing up the chores, doing homework, studying, making dinner and occupying her time to the point where she couldn’t think of anything but how busy she was.

But today was different. She’d stayed after swim practice for longer than she’d intended, wasn’t home at the time she usually arrived. Gran-Gran noticed, because unlike Sokka, Katara could never get away with not being prompt.

”It’s not like you to stay out,” she berated her. Katara peeled her winter clothes away, hung them up and apologized. Gran-Gran ushered her into the kitchen, already with a head start on dinner. Katara wrapped an apron around her waist and picked up a knife without a word, falling into familiar routine. She peeled the potatoes sat out on the cutting board with extra vigor. Sokka was never home at a consistent time. Sokka didn’t have a curfew. Sokka got away with staying out late. But spirit-forbid she be ten minutes late, ever. Spirit-forbid she break a rule. Spirit-forbid—

“Sokka’s doing better, I think,” Gran-Gran mentioned, pulling Katara back into the present. She turned her head over her shoulder, found Gran-Gran smiling absently as she stirred a pot of soup on the stove. “Has he made any friends?”

”Only half the school,” Katara muttered. Gran-Gran’s smile grew.

”That’s good,” she said, relieved. “I wasn’t sure if he’d adjust well to moving here, but it seems like he’s doing fine. Well, doing better. He even told me before he left today that he was going to an arcade after school.”

Katara wilted. What about her? She hadn’t had time to do anything, expected to fill the shoes of the one no longer with them. Sokka got away with not doing chores for their entire lives, and now he got away with going places without permission? He just _told_ Gran-Gran he wouldn’t be home early, and she _allowed_ it? Just because their Mom had—

Katara grabbed the edge of the countertop, Gran-Gran oblivious as her knuckles went white from the strain. She closed her eyes momentarily, tried to squash the angry emotions boiling within her like hot water in a tea-kettle. If she didn’t cool down, she knew she’d blow her lid.

She needed to cool down.

“Katara,” Gran-Gran began after a moment, turning to her as she spoke, “If you ever—”

”Excuse me, Gran-Gran,” Katara cut her off, turning on her heel and moving down the hall faster than her tears could tumble down her cheeks. “Sorry, I need to use the restroom.”

Inside, the door locked, she turned on the shower head, stepped beneath the spray, clothes and all, and just let the icy water soak her through. She stayed like that for some time, enough time for Gran-Gran to come knocking.

”Katara,” she called, “Are you taking a shower?”

”Yes, Gran-Gran,” Katara responded immediately, ever the obedient granddaughter. She closed her eyes, let her body lean against the shower wall and sighed. She was finally cooled off. She just needed to accept she wasn’t the favorite grandchild and never would be. “I’ll be out in a second.”

There was no reply, which meant Gran-Gran had walked away. Katara stepped out of the shower, started to dry herself off with the towel that hung on the door. She was wringing out her hair when she walked to the window, peered down into the street. Hardly anyone was outside due to the falling snow, just what appeared to be a couple. They were sitting at the bus stop across from the apartment building, lips locked, being basically obscene and—

“ _Sokka_?” Katara asked aloud, incredulous. She threw her towel down, didn’t stop to think before she stormed out of the apartment, all the way down the flight of stairs — forgoing the elevator, entirely — and marching into the street. Sokka didn’t see her until she was right upon him and his obviously more-than-a-friend friend, eyes going wide and full of outrage the moment they were face to face.

”And just what do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

”What am _I_ doing?” Sokka scoffed, visibly embarrassed at having been caught, eyeing her up and down and rebuffing, “Look at you! You’re wet! It’s freezing out here, Katara! You’re going to get sick!”

”You stay out all night, making Gran-Gran worry about you, and have the audacity to make out with your girlfriend in front of our home? What’s wrong with you?” Katara demanded, breathing hard. Sokka’s friend stood up, looking rather sheepish. Her cheeks were flushed. She opened her mouth to say something but Katara cut her off before she could and shouted, “And don’t lecture me about getting sick! We lived in year round ice and snow. Ba Sing Se is nothing compared to the South Pole!”

The next morning, Katara was sick.

”Serves you right for scaring Suki away,” Sokka huffed. She glared at him from her bed as he gloated. Gran-Gran ran a damp cloth across her sweaty forehead and chided,

”This isn’t like you, Katara. What were you thinking? You aren’t reckless. What’s going on?”

Katara sighed heavily.

“What’s going on is that my mother is dead and my father can’t work and raise me at the same time and Sokka’s an ungrateful brat who’s never had to pull his own weight in his life and he gets away with everything constantly but I’m not allowed to act reckless once without the universe punishing me for it,” she wanted to say.

But instead, Katara kept her lips sealed firmly shut. She feigned being too ill to speak, rolled over and shut her eyes. Gran-Gran sighed, stood and shuffled away. Katara didn’t open her eyes again until she heard her bedroom door click shut. Alone, she listened to the sounds of the upset morning routine, the way Sokka floundered without her having taken care of majority of the housework. He’d go to school hungry without her breakfast, wouldn’t eat at lunch without her having packed anything for him.

” _Gran-Gran, the bus is coming, I gotta run!_ ” Sokka yelled.

” _Sokka, here!_ ” Gran-Gran called, “ _Take_ _some money. Buy yourself a lot of food today at lunch so you don’t get hungry.”_

Katara sat up, disbelieving. What? He was getting money for food when he hadn’t even done anything to earn it! She never got money unless she did her chores, and never any extra when she did.

Katara flung herself back in her bed in a fit, covered her face with her pillow, kicked her sheets off of her bed and screamed, the sound muffled by the down-feathers.


	2. Chapter 2

Gran-Gran called into work, informing them that she wouldn’t be able to make her shift. Katara felt guilty the entire conversation, but unwound a bit when it seemed Gran-Gran’s boss was more than understanding. On the way to the doctor — by subway, as they didn’t have a car and couldn’t yet afford one, nor the fare for a cab — Katara suddenly remembered school and the tension she’d felt before returned full-force. What if she was written up for being missing because she hadn’t informed them that she’d be absent?

”Gran-Gran,” she croaked from behind her face mask, urgent, “we forgot to call the school.”

”I sent Sokka with a note,” Gran-Gran informed, patting her hand. “We’ll have the doctor write one too, just in case.”

 _Oh_. Katara sat back, gradually relaxed. It hadn’t occurred to her, for some reason, that the school situation might have already been taken care of.

At the doctor’s office, they determined that what she was suffering from was just a common cold. The doctor prescribed her medicine that they picked up at the pharmacy near their apartment building. They returned home, and after taking her daily dose, Katara returned to her bedroom and tried to sleep away the worst of it. She ended up slumbering for some time, not aware of that fact until the moment she was viciously torn out of it by the sounds of teenage boys overturning the apartment. They rambled in through the house like badgermoles, running in every direction, yelling and shouting and jeering over one another to be heard. Katara jumped when her bedroom door opened, laughter and shouts flowing into her room. She turned her head over her shoulder to tell Sokka off, only to find the person standing in her bedroom doorway was very much not her brother.

”Is the console in here?” the boy asked over his shoulder, not yet aware of her.

He was visibly young, maybe not much more than her. Perhaps he was a freshman? His hair was dark, cropped short near his scalp. When he turned and finally saw her, his grey eyes went comically wide. Heat spread across his cheeks. His mouth fell open, stuttering...

Katara was so stunned, she didn’t even know what to say.

”What are you doing?” Sokka hissed, appearing as if conjured, glaring at the boy in her bedroom’s doorway. He grabbed him by his shoulder, pulled him back and slammed her door shut behind them. Katara heard a muffled argument ensue, Sokka hurling accusations and the boy denying and defending, voice terrified and trembling. Katara pinched the bridge of her nose, already exhausted. She stood before things escalated, grabbed the handle to her door and slung it open again. Sokka and the boy froze in place, both looking at her in abject horror as she glared down upon them in all of her sick glory.

” _What_ ,” she began, voice low and hard and hoarse, “ _is going on_?”

”What... what’s going on here is that Aang is apparently into voyeurism!” Sokka accused. Katara’s entire face heated. _Voyeurism? She had been sleeping! What the—?_ Aang deflated like a balloon that had lost its air and hurried through a frenzied explanation, his own face red as a beet,

”I’m so sorry! I-I was looking for the games, and I thought this was Sokka’s room...”

Despite her embarrassment, Katara observed the situation, now comprehending. Sokka had sent him to find his gaming console and jumped to conclusions when Aang had made an understandable mistake. And now he was making up excuses and pinning all the blame on Aang to dodge her wrath. Still, it didn’t excuse Aang suddenly barging into her room with its shut door.

”I didn’t even know you had a sister,” Aang murmured beneath his breath, suddenly very shy. “Let alone that she was _Katara_...”

Katara frowned. Aang knew her? She hadn’t seen him at school, and Sokka clearly hadn’t informed him of the fact that they were related.

”Sokka,” Katara said sternly, turning her attention away from Aang and focusing it on her now guilty-looking sibling. “Next time you invite over your friends — _don’t_!”

Katara slammed the door in their faces, turned on her heel and returned to her bed. She noted with some satisfaction the way her ruckus had caused everyone in the apartment to jump and collectively quiet down. But the noise picked back up not a second later, much to her dismay. Katara burrowed beneath the covers, tried and failed to block out the sounds of teenage boys being obnoxious and loud and altogether inconsiderate of the sick girl a room away. If only Gran-Gran were home, Katara thought. She would’ve whipped the roudy boys into shape. Right? There was no telling, anymore, since Gran-Gran had been prioritizing Sokka’s happiness over everything else. And anyway, she’d left just a little after school had ended to go grocery shopping. She wouldn’t be home for another hour or two. Until the time she returned, Katara wouldn’t know how she’d react to an apartment full of boys she hadn’t approved of.

Or had she? Things had obviously been happening behind Katara’s back, lately. If she’d known Sokka had plans to go to an arcade...

... maybe she would have gone with him.

But clearly, he hadn’t wanted her to. He would have invited her if he had.

* * *

The party didn’t last long, luckily. Sokka’s friends stayed only long enough to play a few games and then headed out. She listened to them leaving one by one, her ear pressed against the door. When she thought they were all gone, she moved to grab the handle, desperately needing to step out and use the restroom, but the timid knock from the other side had her halting. A familiar voice came a second after, saying,

”I’m so sorry for walking in on you.”

It was Aang. Katara’s face heated. _Again_. His word choice was all wrong. It wasn’t like he’d caught her in some compromising act or position. And anyway, no one had ever apologized for barging into her room before. She didn’t know what to say. Aang continued after a moment, very awkwardly,

”Well, you must be sleeping. I’ll just... I’ll be headed out now. It was, um, nice to meet you.”

Hurried footsteps, the front door opening and closing. Katara puzzled, shook her head. When she stepped out of her room, the coast was finally clear. Sokka came around the corner, his console and controllers in his arms. Katara attempted to pin him with her gaze, but he dodged her, avoiding eye contact as he walked past her and into his own room like his life depended upon it.

”Is the apartment a mess?” Katara asked him, scurrying into the living room to find that it was, indeed, a mess. Surprisingly enough though, it wasn’t as big a mess as she’d thought it’d be. Katara scoffed anyway, surveying all of the things wrong and out of place. Sokka ran after her and defended,

”I’m gonna clean it!”

”Uh-huh,” she said sarcastically. She crossed her arms and accused, “And it’ll happen that just as soon as I’m better, I’ll have to re-clean it.”

”You’re mean,” he pouted. “You act like I never do anything.”

”You don’t!” Katara protested, stomping into the kitchen. She opened the cabinet under the sink and grabbed the surface spray and a cloth. Better she just go ahead and tidy up before Gran-Gran got home. Sokka by himself was useless.

”I do!” he fired back, grabbing the items out of her hands. Katara followed him into the main room, noted, stunned speechless, that he’d already acquired a trash bag, had it halfway filled up with the trash the boys had accumulated. Katara bit her lip and said, less certain than before, her voice fading with every word,

”Well, you never do it properly...”

Sokka sighed, turned away from her and started wiping down surfaces. Katara watched him a moment, rendered mute once more. Neither of them said anything for some time, but Sokka eventually spoke up in between tasks,

”Aang thinks your pretty. He told me he has a crush on you.”

Katara rolled her eyes.

” _Sure_ ,” she said. Someone thought she was pretty, and the first thing they did was turn around and tell it to her brother.

”I said the same thing,” Sokka snorted, but sobered up and said a tad more seriously, “But he was adamant.”

 _What was going on?_ Katara crossed her arms, trying to figure it out. Was Sokka... playing wingman? After he’d just accused Aang of being a voyeur? If that was the case, poor Aang. He had no idea that brother-approved boyfriends were out of the question.

“... Does he go to our school?” she questioned anyway.

“He’s a freshman, I think. He might actually be in your grade, though,” Sokka explained, taking her question for her interest and continuing, waggling his eyebrows, “Y’know, prodigy child and all.”

Katara contemplated that. Without a word, she left Sokka alone to clean, returned to her room and sat down in front of her vanity. She took a moment to study herself in the mirror. She had bed-head like no other, heavy bags from weeks worth of exhaustion, and dried, crusted drool running down the side of her mouth. But still — someone had found her attractive. It should have made her feel warm inside, right? That’s how movies depicted that sort of thing. But Katara was... disappointed. Not with Aang or with what he’d said. She found herself desperately wanting for that feeling of warmth in response to his words, only to discover she couldn’t feel it at all, nor anything remotely close. Worse than that, she couldn’t feel much of anything, anymore. The only time she...

Katara slowly lowered her gaze.

The only time she really _felt_ anything anymore, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, was at the bottom of the pool, her breath held, her world dimming.

Katara returned to her bed, knowing it was worrying. For the first time since arriving in Ba Sing Se, a bit of anxiety welled within her. She clutched at the necklace that hung around her neck, the only piece of her mother she had left.

She wondered if the authorities back home would ever catch her mother’s murderer.

If they didn’t, Katara vowed, the thought cold as ice and sharp as a dagger, she would do it herself.


End file.
